"Ah! there's Désilly, the illustrious Désilly."
Two young men who were just passing our three idlers stopped in front of them. One of the two, who wore a broad-brimmed hat with a pointed crown, and had a beard a sapper might have envied, shook hands with Albert and Célestin in turn, saying:
"How are you, boys! we are out for a stroll. I tell you, this is something like! Who will give me a cigar? I've just finished mine."
Albert took from his pocket a dainty cigar case of Italian straw, and offered it to the two new-comers, each of whom took a cigar and lighted it from Albert's and Célestin's; meanwhile, Tobie whispered in Albert's ear:
"Is that the artist Désilly, who draws such amusing, clever caricatures in the paper?"
"Himself."
"Désilly," said Célestin, "you promised to show me the collection of your latest caricatures, which I want to send to Bordeaux. When would you like me to come?"
"My boys, don't ask me anything at this moment; I have a love affair on hand, and it is impossible for me to think of anything else. It may last a week, perhaps two, but it surely won't go over a month; then I shall be at your service. Adieu!"
And the artist went off with his friend.
"He has a love affair on hand," said Monsieur Tobie; "and it seems to engage his attention to the exclusion of everything else."